


Connection Pending...

by writerdragonfly



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Independent Atlantis, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sentient Atlantis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 11:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdragonfly/pseuds/writerdragonfly
Summary: The lost Atlantis Expedition returns...





	Connection Pending...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



> Happy Halloween!
> 
> This is unrelated, but if you haven’t checked out EOS10, you are seriously missing out. <3
> 
> Additionally, I have no idea how military or even law enforcement briefings/debriefings work outside of television, which I’m sure take some creative license as they are. Don’t expect them to carry any realistic weight in this fic. I usually try to avoid such scenes altogether because I hate incorrectly representing how such things would work, but ultimately I feel like the scenes I have are necessary and if I keep trying to research it’ll never be done. Basically, suspend your disbelief about my debriefings, which I know is so hard to do in a science fiction story.
> 
> Sumner will be out of character, but he’s barely got a character in canon to begin with so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> And lastly, don't expect quick updates.

###  _“If I asked you to dance...”_

  


Atlantis City, Viridian Sea, Gaia Prime, Pegasus

Saturnus, 20 Eve, X003

1445

[Earth Date: Monday, June 25th, 2007]

 

“This is Atlantis Reconnaissance Team One, Colonel Sheppard speaking. We are fifteen minutes to approach.”

 

Marshall nods to Corporal Technician Campbell before clicking his own radio to speak, “Atlantis Command, General Sumner. You have permission to dock.”

 

“Roger that, sir. Sheppard, out.”

 

After the click-click of Sheppard’s radio turning silent, Marshall turns to the Gate crew.

 

“AR1 will be arriving in fifteen minutes. After standard docking procedures and medical checks, Doctor McKay will be escorted to Power Room Alpha for the installation of both Zero Point Modules. Provided the installation is successful, we will prepare a dial out to Terra at 1600 hours.”

 

“According to my calculations, Terran time is currently 1645 MDT. It should be approximately 1810 MDT at time of dial out,” Doctor Grodin informs them with an even tone.

 

“That's too late--” Petty Officer Hanna argues. Marshall thinks about correcting him, but Grodin is quick to interrupt.

 

“That's early evening back on Terra,” Grodin says, “they're likely just opening the kitchens for the dinner rush at the Mountain at that time.”

 

“It's also a Monday,” Campbell says with a wide smirk to Hanna’s baffled look.

 

Atlantis City, Viridian Sea, Gaia Prime, Pegasus

Saturnus, 20 Eve, X003

1600

[Earth Date: Monday, June 25th, 2007]

 

Colonel John Sheppard steadies his partner as the other man stumbles a little, still a little off-center from his recent surgeries. Rodney’s hand lightly bumps against his own in thanks, and John lets his acceptance of it fill their shared space.

 

To say that it was telepathy would be overstating it. Whatever scientific breakthrough of the Alteans that had allowed the marriage bond to occur didn’t include the ability to read or transmit actual thought. It was more in line with sharing a tether in which emotions were able to slide back in forth, like sliding beads back and forth on an abacus. It was possible to feel each other when they were separated, even by the Gate, but on Atlantis, the same channel that allowed them to feel the City, and her to feel them, amplified their emotional state. Not between the other gene carriers--thankfully--but just between the two of them.

 

They called it a marriage bond because that had been what the Alteans had named it, back when the Sanctum had first been built. It was a space for the closest of companions to join as one, to marry themselves to one another in life and in death.

 

They also called it a marriage bond because that’s what it signified to them--a commitment to each other that could not and would not be broken. The initial bond had been an accident, but as they grew to understand it _and_ each other, it became real. A catalyst for a relationship that neither of them really doubted would have happened eventually.

 

A _good_ thing, when little else was that first year.

 

Now, something like three _years_ , a few too many funerals but a lot of weddings later, they were different people.

 

The expedition that was dialing Terra-- _Earth_ \--wasn't the same one that left it.

 

“This is a horrible idea,” Rodney says, to the surprise of no one in the room.

 

The wormhole connects, but more than fear John feels excitement sparking between them.

 

Sumner enters his IDC, waits a moment for a response.

 

“Atlantis...” a voice says in a tone that speaks of surprise and awe, “This is Stargate Command.”

 

“This is General Marshall Sumner, of Atlantis. Are there any senior staff available at this time?”

 

“Yessir,” the voice says, “right away sir.”

 

The delay is brief, just a couple minutes before another voice comes over the line.

 

“Atlantis, this is General O’Neill. It’s good to hear from you.”

 

“General, sir,” Sumner says, his voice as even as always, “it's good to be heard.”

 

General O’Neill’s sigh of relief is audible over the open line, “We’ve been worried about you.”

 

John wonders how true that is. Three years and no word, no attempt at reconnection.

 

“I’d like to send myself and my Senior Command Staff to debrief. If everything goes well, many of us would like a chance to return to Te--Earth to visit family afterward.”

 

“Just to visit?” O’Neill says, and even John can read the surprise in his tone.

 

“It's been a long few years, General,” Sumner says, and the hum of agreement in the Gateroom is somber in tone, “can you clear the Gateroom for my staff?”

 

“Clear--”

 

“General O’Neill, sir. Operation safety dictates all essential personnel travel in designated gateships while offworld. We need room for the ship to enter--27 feet out from the Stargate is our estimate.”

 

 _Offworld._ How funny that seemed.

 

“Offworld...” O’Neill doesn’t even seem aware he’s saying it. Faintly, they can hear him commanding the gateroom clear, and then he’s back, “Come on home, Atlantis.”

 

It takes several minutes to get everyone situated. The Secondary Command staff was already prepared to take over, but there’s a flurry of half-nervous half-excited movement.

 

John isn’t sure he wants to return. He misses some things--tomatoes, ball games, movie theaters, his brother, and even his father--but most things he doesn’t. They’ve made a home in Pegasus, carved out lives for each and every one of them.

 

But, he needs to return, if only to say goodbye to the things they’d left behind.

 

They exit the jumper just a few minutes later, into the slightly heavier gravity of Earth, in full guard position. Rodney, dresses in the same Athosian spun combat BDUs as John himself, right beside him where he belonged.

 

Commander General Sumner was the one they protected above the others. Though John was the one directly under him in the military side of things, it was his cabinet staff that were included in the protection he was garnered--Grodin, Campbell, Lockhart, Farron, Finch, and Shirogane were all encircled alongside Sumner despite half of them being highly trained themselves. In total, there were twenty-one of them that had packed into Puddle Jumper 00, two each to member of the cabinet and the Commander.

 

John had left half his team behind on Gaia Prime to protect Secondary Command, but he trusted each and every man that stood beside him now. They had all fought together, bled together, grieved together, and would do so again in an instant.

 

General O’Neill himself met them then, armed personnel of his own bracketing him. But, he was at ease himself.

 

“It’s very good to see you, Atlantis.”

 

“What fish are in your pond, sir?” John asks, just as they had arranged previously. There was a brief, lingering flicker of surprise on the other man’s face.

 

“There aren’t any, Sheppard.”

 

“At ease,” John says in response, and the tension in the air settles into something softer. Everyone relaxes their weapons to their sides. He knows from experience that no one will breathe easy until they’re back on safe ground, that it’s the outward signs they’re relaxing on now. Everyone has extra weapons secreted on them, even Sumner.

 

 _“It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you_ ,” is sadly a motto they know too well.

 

Rodney’s anxiousness carries over the bond then, a thick weight of it, but John knows how hard he’s going.

 

-x-

 

They take them into the medical bay in groups of three. Two bodyguards for each cabinet member, though John isn’t sure that anyone other than O’Neill picks up on it. Sumner goes first with Bates and Markham, the rest of the cabinet following along in quick order, until only he and Rodney and Campbell are left.

 

They take John in for the MRI before the others, but he doesn’t mind. He knows it’s necessary, and going first means he knows what needs to be done.

 

Afterward, he settles back to Rodney’s side as Campbell heads in for his own MRI. The doctors and nurses question as they go through the steps of their required checks, but John is used to that.

 

“Major Sheppard,” General O’Neill says as he walks into the infirmary, and it’s on reflex he’s corrected.

 

“Colonel,” Rodney says, and John can feel the instant embarrassment that results.

 

“Colonel Sheppard?”

 

“Yes, sir,” he answers, “General Sumner promoted me two and a half years ago, sir.”

 

“Well then,” O’Neill says, “Colonel, are you ready for debrief?”

 

“Just a moment, sir,” John says, turning back to Rodney.

 

“Is this--” Rodney protests, but John can already feel his resignation.

 

“McKay,” John says, and the other man sighs.

 

His fingers hesitate a little over the hard latch, just underneath the Atlantis Mission patch they had only recently started wearing again.

 

“Just get on with it, John,” Rodney says, his voice low. John doesn’t need a bond with O’Neill to understand the quick intake of breath as surprise.

 

The soft hiss of air from the prosthetic detaching from Rodney’s shoulder draws eyes from the rest of the infirmary right to them. John ignores them as he slips the full length, manufactured arm from Rodney’s sleeve, the fabric falling limp against the rest of his uniform.

 

“Holy shit,” he hears someone’s voice say. John ignores them, folding the hyper-realistic prosthetic arm up for the stupid carrying case that both of them hate.

 

“The metal inside the prosthetic will react with the imaging hardware,” John says to O’Neill, though he’s aware that all the ears in the place are listening, “because it’s hyper-reactive to the type of magnets used here on Te--Earth. The other prosthetic should be fine if McKay goes through the same medical procedures as I did.”

 

“Other prosthetic?” the doctor who had run John through the MRI asks.

 

“My left leg, below the knee,” Rodney answers, his voice dull and even.

 

“Jesus Christ,” O’Neill says under his breath, but Rodney meets his eyes without blinking. It’s the same sort of gaze he’d learned to use when someone’s life was on the line.

 

The kind of gaze that Kolya had fostered when he took Rodney’s arm.

 

“We’re not the people who left here three years ago, General,” John says, and when O’Neill meets his face, he can see the man understands.

 

“I can see that.”

 

-x-

 

“What happened to Elizabeth Weir?”

 

“Weir insisted on heading up the first contact mission in Pegasus. Since we were, at that time, unaware of any specific dangers other than the city’s shield’s failing, all members of the command staff agreed. Shortly after arrival on Athos, the Wraith attacked the planet and we were forced to flee with what remained of the Athosians. Sumner allowed us one team to attempt a rescue mission of the captured personnel. We were able to save all but two of those captured. Toran of Athos was killed before we arrived, and I was forced to shoot Elizabeth Weir to prevent the location of the Milky Way Galaxy from being revealed.”

 

“ _You_ killed Weir?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“ _Explain_.”

 

“The Wraith were torturing Weir for information about the location of the Milky Way Galaxy, which would have resulted in the death of _worlds_. When shooting the Wraith was ineffective, I was forced to shoot Weir before we blew up the ship.”

 

“Did any of the Wraith survive the explosion?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Then--”

 

“They have a hive-mind. What _one_ knows, they _all_ know. We were woefully unprepared for the trip to Pegasus, and even more unprepared for the Wraith. By hesitating as much as I did, the Wraith were able to discover we were located on New Lantea. Within twelve weeks of our arrival, the planet and the solar system it was contained within were destroyed completely.”

 

“Destroyed-- _how many of the original expedition survived this?_ ”

 

“Seventy one survived the initial assault, two of whom later died due to wounds obtained. We were able to keep our numbers so high due to the quick thinking of Doctor Sergeant McKay and Colonel Sheppard, who used an incredibly experimental powering device to activate the RET protocols that forced the AI to return the Cityship to the original designation on Gaia Prime.” Sumner answers in his stead, showing no hesitation over it.

 

“Wait, back up there. Did you say _Doctor Sergeant?_ And what _does any of the rest of that mean?”_

 

“I don’t care what pissing contest you lot were having with Rodney McKay before we left for Atlantis. Frankly, none of my men give a damn either. He has proven to be a fine man _under my command_ since he made that decision, and I won’t have anyone besmirching _any_ of my men.”

 

“I... understand,” General O’Neill says, but John isn’t sure that’s true.

 

“Does Dr. McKay have a high-level position in the military hierarchy that would warrant his appearance in this briefing?” The Colonel in the room asks. John thinks his name might be David, or Davis.

 

John and Sumner share a look at that question, before John nods. Yes, he should be here.

 

O’Neill moves toward the phone on the conference table, but Sumner stops him with a wave of his fingers before his gaze returns to John.

 

John nods, before closing his eyes and focusing on the highly specific emotion he and Rodney had designated as _Your Presence is Required_ for staff meetings and other such responsibilities. It was _years_ of fine-tuning and control that lead them to such a specialization, and something that they’d only ever explained to their team and Sumner.

 

He feels Rodney’s acceptance back before he opens his eyes, a cool exasperation and irritation alongside something sweeter, meant just for him.

 

“He’s on his way.” John tells them, and he doesn’t miss the confused and calculating looks from the men gathered in the room.

 

“What did you--” one of the men John doesn’t know starts to ask, but the door opening to reveal Rodney stops him in his tracks.

 

“General O’Neill, Sirs,” Rodney says, standing still in the doorway, perfectly in pose. John knows that Rodney hates that, hates being the picture of an Earth perfect soldier.

 

John is proud of him for it though, and lets that carry over.

 

“Please be seated, Doctor Sergeant McKay,” O’Neill says, and John lets himself relax.

 

The briefing continues, Rodney speaking when asked and sometimes when not if his knowledge is necessary for further information.

 

They cover the three, long years between arriving in Atlantis and completing the powering circuit on the city that allowed them to connect with Earth again in mostly vague events, but clear enough for what matters.

 

“If you were able to dial Earth three years in,” the other General in the room asks, “why did you wait another three years to do so?”

  


-x-

  


Earth Date: ~~Monday, June 25th, 2007~~ Friday, March 28th, 2010

Local Time: ~~2000 hours, MDT~~ 3:16 pm MDT

 

Three _years_. They lost three years somewhere. Did time flow differently between galaxies or was something significantly wrong?

 

Learning they’ve been gone six years instead of three doesn’t change their goal, but it will and certainly does change how everyone reacts to their reappearance.

 

They stop for a break after that. No one knows how there are years between them, not without study. Study can wait, there are other things to go over yet.

 

They give the names of the dead, even ones that Earth has no recognition of.

 

There’d been a lot of names, and each one was inscribed within them.

 

But then there were more questions--about John, about what he could do. The other general in the room mentioned _experiments_.

 

“ _No_.” Sumner says it easily, matter of fact. No. No experiments, no testing.

 

“Sheppard’s ability has the possibility of revolutionizing warfare!”

 

“It doesn’t work like that, you insufferable idiot,” Rodney cuts in, crossing his arms in front of him in annoyance.

 

“ _McKay_ ,” one of the men John hasn’t bothered to remember says in censure, but all it serves to do is to make a dark flicker cross Rodney’s face.

 

“The Pledging Bond isn’t viable for large groups of people, and even if it was, it still wouldn’t be usable within the structure you’re proposing. It’s not _telepathy_ . It’s a personal emotional tether between two and four people with Altean DNA markers who have an intense bond of trust with each other. There’s no speech, no words, no thoughts. I came when Sheppard wanted me to because we took _years_ training our emotional balance to recognize when we’re needed.”

 

“Is that why you waited three years? So you could play around with some Ancient experiments?!”

 

“You think we were _playing around?_ ” Sumner barks, finally losing his cool over the general attitude and disbelief of the briefing room. “We have been defending Terra and the rest of this galaxy from a race of alien beings who think of humankind as _cattle_ , sacrificing _everything_ so that the Wraith don’t gain a foothold in a galaxy they’d see as the ultimate buffet, and gathering information about the _other_ furry alien bastards who would see the _entire universe subjugated_ , and you think we were playing around because two of the finest men in my command were able to take a potentially horrible accident and turn it into something positive?”

 

“General Sumner--” O’Neill tries, but Sumner shoots him down with a glance before moving that steely gaze onto every other man in the room.

 

“My men and I have told you the big events, but ultimately _you were not there when we needed you_. Your judgment is unnecessary. If this is the way we are to be treated, we will return home and make plans for another way to have our people visit our homeworld.”

 

“Davis, stay. Everyone else, _get out_.” O’Neill demands. He’s drowned in protests, which only serves to darken his look.

 

“ _Clear the room_ ,” General O’Neill reiterates, his voice a hard line, “If you repeat anything you heard in this debrief, _you will be sanctioned_.”

 

It clears quickly after that. Once the door is closed, Davis pulls a device out of his pocket and presses a button before throwing it on the table. A red light dies out.

 

Presumably a recording device, set to off.

 

John still doesn’t trust.

 

“What can we do to keep you from leaving today?”

 

_What can they do, indeed?_

  



End file.
